


Carving a place just for him

by Katyakora



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Multi, OT3, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, m/m/f
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katyakora/pseuds/Katyakora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a flash of lightning illuminated the barn, her keen eyes noted instantly that the previously locked door was now ever so slightly ajar.<br/>Really, she should have known better.<br/>What ever she had expected to find, a heavily injured man in blood spattered leather with a robot arm certainly wasn't it.</p><p>In which the Winter Soldier finds a home, a haven, and his soul when he stumbles upon the Barton family farm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after watching Age of Ultron. I've always wanted to give Bucky a happy ending and the Bartons gave me feels. Mostly fluff, with a smidge of violence.

It should be noted that Laura Barton was a very observant woman. Like her husband, she’d been raised in the circus, but unlike him, she’d been born to it. She’d learnt knife-throwing at her mother’s knee, and acrobatics from trick-riders and trapeze artists. She could hit a moving target blindfolded by the time she was eight, and always had at least six knives on her person (of which Natasha approved and her husband respected). Clint always laughed when asked why he was so comfortable leaving his family undefended. Laura was all the defence they needed.

  
So when a flash of lightning illuminated the barn, her keen eyes noted instantly that the previously locked door was now ever so slightly ajar.

  
Really, she should have known better. After the day she’d had, there was no way fate was going to let her stop and put her feet up with a cup of tea. Despite being technically retired, Clint was still a reserve member of the Avengers. He’d been called out that morning, and the kids had sulked over it most of the day. Nathaniel had been unusually clingy, refusing to be put down at all. Once dinner had come around, things seemed to be settling down, only for a thunderstorm to roll in. She’d only just managed to get all the kids to sleep, although they’d insisted on sleeping in her bed. She’d snuck downstairs to finally relax with a cup of tea and some trashy TV, when a flash of lightning made her glance out the window.

  
She didn’t hesitate for a moment before slipping into a raincoat and boots, the knife once sheathed at her wrist now a comfortable and familiar weight in her palm. Although the picture of calm, her heartbeat raced as she silently made her way across the yard, her grip on her weapon strong and determined. Face grim, she slipped through the door and turned on the light.

  
What ever she had expected to find, a heavily injured man in blood spattered leather with a robot arm certainly wasn't it.

  
He was sprawled against a hay bale; a greasy rag pressed against a wound on his thigh, already soaked a dull maroon with his blood. Both had frozen the instant the soft, warm light of the barn’s old lamp hit them. His eyes locked onto her and his whole body seemed to vibrate with tension, his muscles already coiled to spring. Whether to fight or run, she couldn’t tell.  
A dozen thoughts raced through Laura's mind, but her keen eyes took stock of the sight before her. She spent enough time around soldiers and assassins to know he was dangerous. She could count at least four weapons, and would not be surprised if he had more. His dirty outfit was obviously designed to be tactical, although his long, matted hair certainly was not. She had no doubt his ridiculously advanced prosthetic would also give him a significant advantage in a fight.  
But she could also see the sweat shining on his skin, the lines on his face clearly a grimace of pain. He was soaked to the bone, his body shaking with both tension and cold. He was clearly exhausted if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by. A part of her mind summoned images of Clint in similar states, and somehow years of patching up her stubborn husband made her say;

  
"I really wouldn’t use that rag if I were you. You don't want to know what it’s been used to mop up in the past."

  
He blinked in surprise, he eyes cutting down to his wounded leg for the briefest of instants. The shock of her comment took the tiniest bit of tension out of his frame, but still he didn’t move, just watched her.

  
“Here,” she said, reaching into her coat with her knife. The second her weapon moved he flinched back, once more strung tighter than Clint’s bow, now almost in a crouch that must be hell on his leg. She moved slower, keeping an eye on him and murmuring ‘It’s OK.’ Efficiently, she cut a swath from her t-shirt. Balling it up, she tossed it at him. He caught it without taking his eyes off her, once more looking achingly confused.

  
‘Its cotton,’ she supplied awkwardly. ‘Should be at least a little more hygienic than that thing.’ Slowly, still eyeing her, he gingerly replaced his first attempt at first aid with her offering.

  
‘Do you…know who I am?’ she asked after they’d stood looking at each other for a few more seconds. His confusion seemed to become tinged with a bone deep sorrow as he shook his head in the most muted of movements. Laura suppressed a sigh of relief. If he didn’t know who she was, then chances are he wasn’t there for her and her family.

  
‘Were you followed?’ Though still grim, the set of his mouth seemed almost satisfied as he once again shook his head. ‘OK,’ she murmured, mostly to herself. A part of her was screaming at her to get this dangerous stranger off her farm. Another part was telling her to just walk away and hope he was gone in the morning.

  
As though aware of her internal debate, the stranger spoke for the first time.

  
‘Didn’t,’ he grimaced as his voice came out in a rough croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Didn’t want to…trespass. Just wanted to rest…wait out the storm.’ He looked at her like he honestly expected her to make him beg. She can practically feel her heart breaking, and her head was nodding before she was even conscious of the decision.

  
‘You can stay.’ His shoulders slumped slightly in relief and exhaustion. ‘But,’ He tensed again at the steel in her voice. ‘Any harm comes to my family,’ without breaking eye contact, she sent the knife in her hand flying, embedding it two inches deep into the wall to her right. ‘And no force on earth will save you.’

  
‘That’s fair,’ he rasped, a hint of respect in his eyes.

  
‘Come on,’ she commanded, jerking her head towards the door as she stepped towards it. He didn’t follow, just sat there looking at her like she was an alien. She huffed in frustration and took a determined step towards him.

  
‘Look, my first aid kit is better stocked than your average ambulance and I know for a fact my couch is comfier than that hay bale. So if you think I’m gonna leave you to bleed out here in the cold, you got another thing coming.’

  
His stunned stare met her determined one, her hand now stretched between them in an open offer of help. After a few long, tense seconds, he finally seemed to accept she was being genuine. With a pained grunt, he began climbing to his feet. He visibly flinched when she moved to his side to help him, but his body betrayed him as he put weight on his wounded leg. He staggered, practically falling into her arms. She twisted to brace him on her shoulder, her knees almost buckling under the weight before he managed to steady himself.

  
A burning heat emanated from him despite the fact he shivered with cold. The sensation cascaded through her and for just a moment she felt as though she didn’t fit inside her own skin. Her heart skipped a beat to keep time with a pulse she couldn’t hear. She gasped, turning her head to meet the most brilliant blue eyes she’d ever seen. It amazed her slightly that she was only noticing his eyes now. For his part, he seemed to be really seeing her, for the first time looking at her and seeing a person, not a threat. His prosthetic was curled protectively around his body, suggesting his torso was injured. She can’t be sure if he felt what she did, or if he was even aware of what it meant. After all, most people only experienced it once in their life. In retrospect, she wasn’t particularly surprised that she and Clint would be part of the small percentage of people who feel it more than once.

  
Unsure of how long they’ve been staring into each other’s eyes, she cleared her throat to break the moment. He shook slightly, as though he needed to physically move to break eye contact. He looked apologetic and swallowed nervously.  
‘Thank you,’ he murmured, though for what, neither of them could have said. He took a hesitant step forward, and together they made their way through the rain into her home.

An hour later, Laura found herself stitching up a bullet wound while her patient watched in stoic silence. He’d taken the clothes she handed him without a word, allowing her to dump blankets and a pillow on the couch while he changed in the bathroom. She tried not to stare when he stepped out and cautiously made his way over to the couch. He’d pulled his hair back using the purple hair tie Lila had left next to the basin. She’d given him some old sweats of Clint’s, and she could see where he was a little bigger than her husband from the way the fabric stretched in places that fit Clint perfectly. She can see the outline of several knives but no guns, which makes her a little more comfortable. He had to remove a couple of them when she pointed out he’d need to take off the pants for her to dress his wound. He doesn’t complain, but the weapons are never out of arm’s reach.

  
His hands clenched the blanket beneath him as she pulled the last stitch tight. His lack of vocalisation is almost unnerving after years of playing nurse for her rowdy family. While thinking of a way to break the silence, something occurred to her.

  
‘I’m Laura, by the way,’ she said casually, most of her attention still on the task at hand. His eyes flicked down to her from where they’d been perusing the family photos between scoping the room. After a moment she looked up at him, clearly awaiting a response. He frowned, that bone-deep sorrow once again edging into his expression. She waited, but he just looked at her helplessly.

  
‘Do you have a name?’ It seemed like the right question to ask, but when he responded he sounded utterly broken.

  
‘I think I did, once.’

  
‘Oh,’ There’s not a lot else she can say to that. ‘Uh, well, I gotta call you something. Unless you’re particularly partial to “stranger”.’ Oddly, that seemed to resonate with him.

  
‘Stranger, huh?’ A bitter-sweet curve lifts the very edges of his mouth. He cleared his throat a little. ‘Fits better than you know.’

  
‘I’ve heard worse names,’ she replied with a shrug, giving him a smile. This felt almost like the bones of an actual conversation. He bit his lip, his gaze pensive as he searched her with a look.

  
‘James,’ he said finally. He seemed unsure as he said it, as though testing the fit. ‘I…I can be James.’

  
‘OK then, James.’ She gave him an encouraging smile as she finished bandaging his leg. ‘Are you injured anywhere else?’ He grimaced.

  
‘Nothing that won’t heal on its own.’ She frowned at that.

  
‘It’s no trouble to patch you up, really. I already got the kit out anyway.’

  
‘Thank you, but I’ll be fine.’ She levelled him with her best motherly glare and watched him squirm uncomfortably. ‘I’m really OK. You’ve done enough, you should get some rest.’ She cocked one eyebrow. ‘Maybe…leave me some tape? For my ribs?’ He finally caved.

  
‘Alright then.’ She tossed him the tape with a smile and proceeded to pack up the monstrous first aid kit. ‘Kitchen’s just there, help yourself if you get hungry, but try to stay off that leg.’ He nodded gravely at the instructions, just watching as she stood to leave. ‘I’m just upstairs, yell if you’re dying, but don’t you dare wake my baby for anything less.’ She paused in the doorway, kit held awkwardly in front of her. ‘Goodnight James.’

  
‘Goodnight Laura.’

Once upstairs, Laura slipped into the bathroom. Slowly, her usually steady hand trembling, she pushed the fabric of her shirt down over her left shoulder, painstakingly exposing the skin beneath. Where once there had been lightly freckled olive skin, was now a swirling cluster of incredibly pale blue flecks. It looked to her like a snowstorm of tiny knives, curling from the top of her shoulder down her bicep to flick the crease of her elbow. Instinctively, her right hand came to rest on the smooth purple lines that traced her ribs beneath her shirt. She felt it thrum with phantom energy, the physical manifestation of her bond with Clint calming her in the way only he could.

  
She had a second soulmark. A second soulmate, who just so happened to be highly dangerous and unsure of his own name. She didn’t know what this meant, but it was certainly daunting. She wrapped her arms around herself, unconsciously placing a hand on each mark. Her left hand traced the mark at her ribs.

  
‘I wish you were here.’


	2. Chapter 2

He hadn’t intended to stay. Just one night, he’d thought, I can leave before she wakes up. But he hadn’t counted on the fact that her couch was, in fact, the first truly comfortable surface he’d slept on in weeks. That, combined with finally stopping after weeks of running, fighting and hunting, meant that it was well past dawn by the time he woke. And he was definitely not the only one up.

He woke to the sound of soft slurping. Acting on instinct, there was a gun in his hand trained towards the noise before he’d even opened his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of a little girl, going cross-eyed as she tried to look at the gun pointed at her noise, still quietly slurping from her juice-box. Next to her was boy, a couple years older, who looked slightly more concerned about the gun pointed at his sister. Sheepishly, James moved it, tucking it back under the pillow he’d had it under.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. Both children continued to stare at him, making him shift into a sitting position uncomfortably. ‘Uh…don’t tell your mom?’

The children seemed to weigh his request gravely, sharing what seemed like a significant look. 

‘OK,’ the boy said finally. ‘But only if you let us watch cartoons.’

‘What?’

‘We’re not supposed to watch TV if we have guests on the couch,’ the girl explained. ‘But we can if you say its ok.’

‘Um…OK?’ Immediately they jumped up onto the couch either side of him. 

He wasn’t sure how long it had been by the time Laura came downstairs, a baby propped on her hip. Lila had been busy explaining the powers and history of the Crystal Gems to him, while Cooper had gotten up to fix himself some breakfast.

‘Come on, guys,’ Laura sighed as she took in the scene. ‘You know the rules when we have guests!’

‘James said it was OK!’ Lila insisted. Laura’s eyebrows rose as she glanced at James.

‘Its OK,’ he confirmed quietly. He gave her a tiny, almost surprised, smile. ‘I kinda like Steven Universe.’ And only a little bit because he reminded him of a certain stranger.

‘All right,’ she conceded, stepping into the kitchen to prepare a baby bottle. ‘Just don’t make a habit of letting them bully you into letting them watch TV.’ He frowned at the implication he would be staying longer, but Laura wasn’t looking at him.

Grudgingly, Cooper agreed to make pancakes for everyone, not just himself, and James realised he didn’t know when he’d last eaten. Breakfast was a loud, rambunctious affair. Laura was a little concerned when the kids decided to make a game of seeing who could stick a fridge magnet to James’ arm without him noticing. But every time he just flicked them off with a raised eyebrow. Laura couldn’t help but smile as she watched the surly, taciturn stranger brighten bit by bit when faced with her hyperactive children. Eventually though, she sent them off to do chores after James shyly offered to help with the dishes.

It was strangely comical to see him drying dishes with one arm made of metal and the other still sporting some dried blood. 

‘You need a shower,’ she said abruptly, making him jerk his head up to look at her. She blushed at the non-sequiter. Knowing she had a bond with him had her off-balance. ‘I’ll, ah, show you where to find the towels after we’re done here.’ 

‘OK.’ He continued drying; his shoulders hunched in a way that made him seem closed off. She continued watching him out the corner her eye until she’d washed the last dish, then stood there awkwardly watching him until he’d dried it. He seemed to realise she wanted his attention, as he put the plate down and turned to face her.

‘I can be gone in an hour.’ She blinked at him, inwardly cursing how off-kilter she was that morning. ‘I just need to…clean up a little. Then I’ll be out of your hair.’

‘Yeah, that doesn’t work for me.’ Damn it, she wanted to kick herself the second that left her mouth. Mostly because James looked like someone had kicked his puppy even as he took a step to leave that very moment. ‘Wait, wait, that came out…awful.  
Just stop for a second and listen to me.’ Thankfully he did pause, looking adorably confused. She took a deep breath.

‘OK, I know this whole situation seems crazy, believe me. I don’t know you. I don’t know where you came from, or what you’re capable of. But I can make a few educated guesses. Clearly, you need somewhere to lay low for a while. If you want, this can be that place.’ He looked stunned, maybe even a little hopeful. ‘You can stay here, as long as you want, on two conditions. First, everybody pulls their weight around here, so that means chores and helping out with any projects.’ He nodded slowly, biting his lip as he waited for the second condition. ‘Second, last night you told me no one followed you?’ He nodded affirmation. ‘OK second, any trouble you bring to this house-‘

‘I won’t let anyone hurt you or your family.’ The interruption was a surprise to her, and his conviction a surprise to him. He waited for her to get annoyed, but she just nodded like she’d expected no less from him.

‘Alright then, let me show you where to get towels, and I’ll put some linen on the spare bed.’

 

Later, under the spray of gloriously hot water, he was perfunctorily scrubbing himself down when he noticed to. Pale blue flecks swirling across his right pectoral, over into the crease of his armpit to twist along his tricep. The strange pigmentation sent a slight shiver through him as he touched it. He couldn’t say with any certainty if it had been there before. But the part of his brain that knew the man on the bridge knew exactly what the mark meant, creating confused euphoria. He continued to touch it absently as he finished washing, and even once clothed, his metal hand kept coming to rest on his chest. Over his soulmark.

James’ first day on the Barton farm was fairly quiet. The children were happy to spend most of the day outside and James wound up acting as a second pair of hands for Laura. They worked mostly in companionable silence, occasionally punctuated by instructions from Laura. James diligently performed every task she set, never once complaining about the pain from his injuries. He didn’t even act as though he was in pain except that he occasionally favoured his leg when standing. 

Laura spent most of the day biting her tongue, not wanting to overwhelm him with questions. She counted it a small blessing that he was apparently comfortable with babies, although this seemed to be news to him. It had surprised them both when she had just handed the infant over when the washing machine beeped, but he’d instinctively supported the tiny body perfectly. They’d both paused for a second and then simply continued on. Nathaniel seemed to warm up quickly to this new person and seemed perfectly happy to polish James’ arm with his drool. After a while James began to become more comfortable with the infant, idly playing peekaboo and making faces at him so he’d giggle whenever Laura didn’t need him. 

He had Nathaniel on one hip and the laundry basket on the other as Laura and the kids took the laundry off the line when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen to see it was her husband calling. She waved at the others to continue with she took a couple of steps away. 

‘Hey, sweetheart,’ she answered, a little relieved to hear from him. The call the day before had not been too specific.

‘Hey, gorgeous,’ came his smooth reply. ‘I can’t talk long. I just wanted to check in, let you know I’m ok, but this…looks like it’ll be a long one.’

‘How long?’ she asked with a sigh.

‘At best, maybe a week. At worst? If it takes more than a month we’ll admit defeat.’

‘A month. I’m not happy, but we’ve handled longer.’

‘That’s my girl. I swear I’ll do my best to get back to you as soon as I can. Now, I gotta go, Nat’s glaring.’

‘OK, be safe. And, ah, when you get back,’ she paused, glancing at James who was shamelessly listening. ‘I got a surprise for you.’

‘Oooh, I like the sound of that.’

‘I think you should wait to pass judgement,’ she chuckled. ‘Now get to it, knucklehead, so you can get back here. I love you.’

‘I love you too. Always. Give my love to the kids, you are all the light of my life, I love you, bye!’

‘Bye!’ She ended the call and turned around to find James and her children watching her. ‘He says he shouldn’t be gone more than a couple weeks,’ she assured the kids before looking to James. ‘Clint, he has a dangerous job. Sometimes it takes him away for a while.’

‘Your husband?’ She nodded.

‘Hey kids, why don’t you take care of the folding for me and James and I’ll get dinner started?’ Cooper obediently took the basket from James and both children raced up to the house. Laura took Nathaniel back, and she and James followed the children at a slower pace.

‘You miss him?’ James asked abruptly.

‘Of course.’ She didn’t bother asking who he meant. He didn’t ask anymore questions, but she could tell he was curious.

 

Life on the Barton farm settled into an easy rhythm over the next few days. James had healed astonishingly fast, but Laura wasn’t complaining, as it meant he was able to help out a lot more. With the kids at school during the week, James took care of most of the day to day labour on the farm, leaving Laura with more free time to relax. James seemed to be getting more comfortable as well, smiling more as the days passed. By the end of the week, Laura was comfortable leaving him to babysit while she ran errands. He also opened up a bit more, though he was still a little vague on the details. She knew he’d been military, and that his prosthetic was integrated without his consent. She knew he had memory-loss issues, and like her was never truly comfortable unless he was armed somehow. Most of their conversations were largely inconsequential, but she could almost feel their bond strengthening as their relationship progressed towards a tentative friendship. She still hadn’t brought up the subject of soulmarks. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up, let alone how he’d react. Surely he’d noticed his own mark by now. He had a habit of rubbing his chest when unsure or uncomfortable, in the area where she was fairly sure his matching mark would be. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his silence. 

He’d been there a little over two weeks when the subject finally came up.

‘Tell me about him.’ She looked up sharply from the carrots she’d been cutting. James was sitting on the other side of the kitchen counter, idly peeling potatoes. His long chestnut hair was messily pulled back into a bun, various stray locks framing his handsome face. The scene was both comically domestic and rapidly becoming familiar.

‘Huh?’ was her intelligent response.

‘Clint.’ As if that explained everything.

‘Why do you wanna know about him?’ He shrugged.

‘You care about him. I’ve seen his pictures everywhere and I’m living in his house, but I know nothing about him. I guess I’m…curious. W…would he even be OK with…me? Being here?’ Despite the insecure undertone, his last question made her laugh a little.

‘I once came home to a beautiful russian assassin passed out on my couch in my bathrobe. Trust me, even if he did have a problem, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. It’ll be nice to finally return the favour.’

‘Just say the word, Doll, and I’ll toss on a bathrobe.’ She laughed again, enjoying the sight of his sly grin. It was so incredibly different to the tense, suspicious scowl he’d worn when she met him.

‘So, Clint; what did you wanna know?’ He frowned for a moment, deliberating as he set the last potato and peeler down.

‘How…how did you meet?’ He asked finally. Her eyebrows rose, but she began the tale without preamble, continuing to chop vegetables as she spoke.

‘I met Clint when we were just kids. Mom and I were practising, and Jacques was showing Clint and his brother around, introducing them to people. Showing them the ropes and such.’

‘Jacques?’

‘The ringmaster.’

‘Ringmaster…you were in the circus?!’

‘Yep. Born and raised under the big top. Anyway, they come around the corner and Jacques tells them to stop and wait, ‘cause Mom always hated it whenever anyone interrupted her rhythm. So she’s throwing knife after knife, and then Clint spots me, running towards the target. I’m supposed to cartwheel in front of the target, I was part of our act, but Clint doesn’t know that. He just thinks I’m some crazy girl with a death wish. So he runs up and grabs me, wraps his arm round my middle and actually shields me with his body. Thankfully, Mom’s knife just barely nicks his shoulder, but she went absolutely ballistic at him for just running in front of her like that. Not that either of us noticed. We were too busy staring at his soulmark, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened.’ 

She was still grinning at the memory when she realised James had gone still, his prosthetic hand clutching his pectoral. He was staring into nothing, a look of stunned understanding on his face.

‘Soulmark?’ he murmured, more to himself than her. Her breath stuttered and she stopped chopping as she realised he truly hadn’t known the significance of the mark.

‘Yeah,’ she said softly, her voice cracking ever so slightly. ‘We’re soulmates.’ He looked at her sharply, eyes sparking with hope before realisation dawned.

‘You…and Clint?’ 

‘Yeah.’ She licked her lips, willing her hands to stop shaking. ‘Although I’m pretty sure we have a third.’ He frowned, racking his unreliable brain for the pertinent information.

‘A third…soulmate?’ he finally asked.

‘Yeah. It’s uncommon, but it happens.’

‘How,’ he bit his lip before pressing on, ‘How do you know?’ She decided to step around the bench, seating herself on the stool next to his. This was definitely a sitting-down conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My characterisation of the Winter Soldier probably isn't great, but I didn't want this to be too heavy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains that smidge of violence I mentioned. Also I apologise as my knowledge of USA geography is the definition of vague. Basically I looked at a map and guessed some stuff.

‘Well,’ she began slowly, swallowing nervously and looking down at her restless hands. ‘Clint and I have actually talked about the possibility before. We’ve both always felt…incomplete, I guess.’ She finally looked up into his eyes. ‘And recently, someone new entered my life.’ His confusion turned to disbelief as she tentatively took his right hand. Until then, all their contact had been the perfunctory contact required to work together or dress his wounds. This was the first time she’d moved to touch him in a non-casual way. His eyes flickered down to where her hand cradled his, then back to her face. She tried for a reassuring smile. ‘Someone, who I really should have been suspicious of, but trusted instinctively. Someone who my kids adore, and who adores them. Someone who fit into my life like he was always meant to be there. Someone who gave me a new mark.’ He was still quiet and she was getting a little worried. It must have showed on her face because he frowned a little, and then took a calming breath before speaking.

‘Can…can I see it?’ His whispered question was almost reverent. His hand had shifted in her grip to clutch hers back. She gave him a small smile and nodded. Slowly, she pulled the neckline of her shirt to the side, revealing the top of her mark at her shoulder. He stared at the swirling blue flecks in wonder, his prosthetic making an aborted motion as if to touch, then thought better of it. ‘That, ah, that’s mine. I mean, I have that. Too.’ She chuckled. 

‘May I?’ she asked. It took him a moment to realise what she meant. With a sharp nod, he unzipped his hoodie and shucked it of his right shoulder. Keeping an eye on her reaction, he pulled up the sleeve of his tshirt to reveal as much of his mark as he could.

The whole moment seemed surreal. Logically, she’d known they were soulmates, but it was different seeing the evidence in front of her. She slowly raised a hand, her delicate fingers coming to rest on his mark. the contact sparked a thrum of energy between them, a two part harmony that sang through their bones, unique to them. He was grinning at her like he was a blind man seeing for the first time. They’d unconsciously shifted closer and he barely had to move to rest his forehead against hers. A metal thumb brushed her cheek, and she realised she’d started crying. 

‘You’re my soulmate,’ he stated in a reverent whispher.  
‘Yeah.’

‘And you think…Clint too?’

‘That’s usually how it works.’

‘I didn’t think I’d ever…have someone.’ He paused, trying to find the right words. His expression was naked and raw as he laid himself open for the first person he could remember trusting. ‘Didn’t think that, after everything, I had a soul anymore. Turns out, you were keeping a piece safe for me.’ That brought fresh tears to her eyes.

‘You do have a soul, James. I know because I see it every day. I see it when you play with Cooper and Lila, and when you hold Nathaniel. I know you have a past, but that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is the man you are now. And I happen to think he’s pretty damn special.’ He was smiling again at her words, tears of his own pooling in his eyes.

The baby monitor on the bench erupted to life with the cries of a hungry baby. It would seem Nathaniel was awake. Reluctantly, James pulled back.

‘I’ll get him. You should get back to it.’ He headed for the stairs, only to pause at the base. ‘Maybe, we can talk more later?’ He rubbed his neck awkwardly. ‘If you want to?’

‘That sounds great,’ she answered with a smile. His only smile was a little shy, but no less bright as he headed for the nursery.

 

It was quite late by the time he sought her out that night. Once the kids got home from school things have been hectic, and he wasn’t too thrilled at the thought of an audience. He was still very much getting his bearings following that afternoon’s revelation. He’d found a place for himself in their family, but now he wasn’t quite sure where he fit. His own doubts and insecurities ate at him, urging him to spare them the burden he must be. More and more he could recall the atrocities he’d been used to commit, and the thought of staining Laura’s existence with them was abhorrent. But the thought of never seeing her again, of possibilities with a man he’d never met fading to nothing, made him feel almost physically ill. Fate had delivered him to them, and Laura had become his haven. Maybe, if he stayed, she and Clint could be his redemption.

With the kids all sound asleep, he bypassed the spare room that had become his and headed for Laura’s door. Halfway there he heard her phone ring, but he didn’t stop until he stood in her doorway. Laura had her back to him, her phone pressed to her ear as she greeted ‘Nat’ enthusiastically. James’ hearing had always been good, and in the quiet of the evening he could just make out the other side of the conversation.

‘I’m afraid the ETA Clint gave you is going to have to be revised.’

‘What do you mean?’ Laura asked, one hand on her hip. He could practically hear her frowning.

‘You know I hate worrying you like this. But the fact of the matter is, Hydra has Clint and we don’t know where they’ve taken him.’

‘But you will find him?’ Her voice sounded so fierce and broken that James didn’t even try to resist the urge to go to her. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched but clutched at his hand gratefully as soon as she saw who was touching her.

‘You know me, Laura. I’ll bring him back to you. The issue is finding him. He was taken here in Minneapolis when we were raiding their base, so we just need to track down the nearest Hydra installation.’

‘You just don’t know how long that will take.’ The woman on the other end of the line sighed deeply.

‘No.’ Laura simply nodded her acceptance of the situation, eyes wet and worried.

‘Thanks for letting me know, Nat. Call me when he’s safe.’

‘Of course.’ Abruptly, the call was ended. Laura dropped the phone on the bed and pulled James into a hug without preamble. The move was a surprise, but he automatically wrapped his arms around her, providing what warmth and support he could. They stood there for a long time, Laura clutching him close like a lifeline while he rubbed her back soothingly.

‘I should be used to this by now,’ she murmured wetly against his chest.

‘No,’ he disagreed softly. ‘No one should get used to fear.’ She craned her head to meet his eyes.

‘Do you know anything about Hydra?’ It was the first time she had directly asked him about his past. After a moment’s hesitation, he answered.

‘They took him alive. That means they want him for something. Most likely information or leverage. They won’t kill him unless it’s to their advantage or he’s no longer useful.’

‘So he has time?’

‘Yeah.’ He expected her to let go. After all, there weren’t a lot of ways he could have known that information. She had to at least suspect he’s been a part of Hydra. But she surprised him yet again.

‘Would you mind staying here tonight? To sleep? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.’ Gravely, he nodded, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead.

‘Whatever you need.’

 

She fell asleep fairly quickly, curled up against his chest, exhausted from the stress. James laid awake, watching over her and thinking. The woman on the phone had said Clint would likely be in the nearest Hydra cell to Minneapolis. He’d been hunting down and destroying Hydra cells for months, so he knew which ones were likely still active. He had in fact been on his way to one when he took shelter in the barn. Every other cell between that one and Minneapolis was either defunct or had moved. He knew exactly where Clint was.

Gently, he extricated himself from Laura’s grasp, pressing a kiss to her forehead when she grumbled in her sleep. Silently, he made his way to his room and pulled on his tactical outfit for the first time since he’d arrived. Dressed and armed, he stepped out into the night.

Four hours and two stolen cars later, James was watching the Hydra building from the shadows, doing as much recon as he could in the limited time he had. Despite what he’d told Laura earlier, he wasn’t completely confident Clint would survive the night. He had to move fast.

He got very lucky as the guard shift changed not long after he arrived. It wouldn’t change again for at least four hours, giving him a decent window of opportunity. Four carefully timed and aimed shots took care of the external cameras. Five more took down the perimeter guards. No one was left to witness the dark blur that cleared the fence and swiped an access card from one of the bodies before slipping inside. 

He found himself in a corridor lined with doors. Two guards near the entrance, both taken down before they could make a sound. The facility’s layout was unfamiliar, but as long as he remained largely undetected, he should be able to search the whole building. He listened carefully at the first door for a few moments before entering. One guard was inside, taken out silently with a chokehold. Looking around, he realised he was in the facility’s surveillance room. It was the work of seconds to find the area he needed and map out a route. There would be more than a few guards and personnel to get through on the way, but James was sure he could handle it. Snagging another sidearm and more ammo from the unconscious guard, he stepped back out to complete his mission.

As he settled back into the familiar rhythm of stealth and violence, James felt conflicted. He couldn’t say he enjoyed it. He had never enjoyed inflicting pain or death. But a man named Bucky Barnes had known how to fight, had been good at it. He’d become a soldier to make a difference, and found a sense of satisfaction in it. The Winter Soldier had felt nothing as he took life after life. But again there had been a sense of satisfaction when a mission went particularly well, when he was able to remain so completely undetected that he could get in, take out the target, and get out without any unnecessary casualties. And a man called James never wanted to hurt anyone ever again, but he was willing to do anything to protect his soulmate and the life he’d found on the farm. Even if that meant making use of his impressive and deadly skill set.

So while he ground his teeth behind a scowl of distaste, something that could only be called satisfaction welled within his gut with every body that hit the floor.

The Barton farmhouse was lovingly littered with family photos. Thus when James made it to the cell, the man inside, though a bloodied and bruised stranger, was as familiar a sight as Laura. He’s been strapped to a chair, an IV line in his arm attached to a bag hanging above him. His head lolled forward weakly, but he made a valiant effort to raise it when James entered the room.

‘Who…fuck’re…you?’ he managed to slur.

‘The guy gettin’ you outta here,’ James replied as he strode around behind Clint’s chair to work at his restraints. He glanced at the IV bag and groaned. He recognised the label and on this particular cocktail, Clint would be pretty much useless for hours. ‘OK Clint, I’m gonna need you to stay awake until I get you outta here, you got that?’

‘This’s new,’ Clint slurred instead of answering. ‘Nev’r…h’luc'nated dude rescuin’ me ‘fore.’ Having succeeded in removing the restraints and IV, James swiftly stepped round to the front of the chair to catch Clint as he predictably lurched forward.

‘No hallucinations here, buddy. I’m the real thing.’ Clint just grinned dazedly up at him.

‘Cool.’ James sighed deeply.

‘Can you stand?’ Clint peered at the ground as though seriously assessing it.

‘Pro’ly not.’

‘Of course.’ Roughly, James hauled Clint’s right arm over his shoulders, easily supporting most of Clint’s weight with his prosthetic. This left him his right hand to shoot with.

‘Oooh, shiny!’ Clint commented helpfully as he finally noticed the metal arm. James just rolled his eyes as he hauled his load towards the door. 

At this point, the facility was aware of the intrusion, and James was entirely unsurprised by the reception at the end of the hall. 

‘Bad guyyysss.’

‘I got it,’ James assured him, neatly shooting the three men at the end of the hall. Oddly, two more shots rang out as he took shot his targets. He looked behind him to see two more bodies dropping. Clint had James’ spare sidearm in his hand, still pointed to the rear. James hadn’t even noticed he’d grabbed it.

‘Bad guysss,’ Clint said again with emphasis. James just blinked at him. ‘Dn’ you worry, Shiny,’ Clint gently patted James’ cheek, though with the gun still in hand it was more of a light slap. ‘I got yo’ six.’

‘I guess you do,’ James murmured after a deep breath. Looks like he won’t be so useless after all, James thought as they pressed on.

Despite his drugged state, Clint was still a reliable shot, and together they made it through the building. They stepped out into the chilly night air and James for once felt glad to feel the cold. Adrenaline was surging through him and this was the only excuse he had for not noticing the sensation sooner. Clint’s right hand was clutching at the curve between his neck and shoulder, doing what little he could to help James support his weight. His broad palm emanated a surreal heat that seemed to fill him until his skin felt to tight. The sensors in his prosthetic picked up a pulse that beat in tandem with his own. The feeling was familiar and terrifying and spectacular all at once.

He turned his head to look at his burden and met a steely grey stare. Despite the drugs making his eyes seem hazy and his lids droop, Clint was looking at him as though he could see every piece of him, every dark and tattered scrap of his being. The weight of that gaze was heavy, but tempered by the raw, awestruck expression on his face.

‘Well I’ll be damned,’ Clint murmured. James was at a loss as to what to say.

‘Hi,’ he finally said lamely, giving him a shy smile.

‘Hi,’ Clint parroted, grinning. Wrenching his gaze away, James scanned the perimeter to make sure they were safe, before he gently set Clint down on the ground.

‘Whuh you doin’?’ Clint demanded. James leant down and gripped his shoulder companionably. 

‘There’s something I need to take care of. You stay here and if anyone steps out who ain’t me, you shoot ‘em.’

‘Got it. Y'better come back though.’ Clint honestly pouted at the thought of James leaving him alone. 

‘Always,’ James grinned, resting his forehead briefly against Clint’s, before running back into the building.

 

Four hours later, Laura woke to the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Palming the knife under her pillow, she opened her eyes. In the predawn light, she was greeted by the sight of a bruised and freshly scrubbed James carrying a bandaged, passed-out Clint over the threshold bridal style. He didn’t pause or speak, he just gently lay Clint down on the bed, only then meeting her eyes. 

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, letting out a shuddering breath as her eyes began to glisten wetly. He nodded, and didn’t resist when she clasped his hand to pull him into the bed on Clint’s other side.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint woke many hours later in an empty bed with a stellar headache and an itching thirst. He groaned as he sat up, clutching his head and feeling various injuries protest the movement. The light streaming in through the window made him blink furiously as his eyes adjusted. Through the haze, he spotted a jug of water, some painkillers and a note on the bedside table. He snatched up the drugs, profusely thanking any listening deity for blessing him with Laura. His thoughts were still jumbled, and he wasn’t sure how he had managed to get home. There were scattered memories of metal arms and blue eyes, but he was pretty sure that had been a hallucination. Tossing back the pills, he grabbed the jug and drank deeply, bypassing the glass next to it. Still chugging, he picked up the note.

 

_Morning Gorgeous,_

_Take the pills for your head and drink ALL the water, James says you’ll be dehydrated. Come downstairs when you wake up, your bandages will need to be changed._

_Try not to scare me like that again,_

_Love you_

He stopped drinking, noting the jug was almost empty. He reread the note.

_Who the fuck is James?_

It was as he stared blankly at the note that he finally noticed the mark on his palm. It was rust-red, the colour of old blood. It was mostly symmetrical, two vaguely hexagonal shapes, one inside of the other, with sharp lines like spikes protruding inwards and outwards. He couldn’t decide if it looked more like a scope or a snowflake. He was also vaguely reminded of Cap’s shield for some reason. He traced the hexagons with his thumb, enjoying the way it tingled. His aching brain spat out flashes of being held by an impossibly strong arm, of gripping a muscular shoulder tight enough to bruise.

Maybe he hadn’t been hallucinating after all.

Deciding he would be far better equipped to deal with this after getting some coffee, he dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs. He found Laura in the kitchen, Nathaniel propped on her hip as she prepared a bottle for him.

‘Morning,’ he croaked. Instantly she whirled around and pulled him into a hug, carefully not to get Nathaniel caught between them.

‘I was so worried,’ she mumbled into his shoulder before stepping back to look him over. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like I got drunk and tangled with Thor. Honestly the hangover is the worst part.’ She opened her mouth but he interrupted before she could speak. ‘And yes, Nurse, I did take my pills and I drank all my water. Speaking of which, who the hell is James?’ She didn’t answer straight away, just frowned at him.

‘How much of last night do you remember?’

‘Not a lot,’ he admitted. ‘It’s mostly all jumbled. I don’t even know how I got home.’

‘James brought you home.’ She smiled serenely at the thought.

‘Which brings us right back to my initial question.’ Still smiling, she reached for his right hand. Turning it palm up, she tapped the new mark there. ‘This,’ she said, ‘and this,’ she tapped the curl of colour poking out the end of her tshirt sleeve, ‘are James.’

‘Huh.’ Was all he managed to say, his fingers reaching up to brush the mark on her arm. He just stood there, looking stunned until Nathaniel began whining, clearly wanting his snack. ‘Oh God I need coffee so bad right now.’ Laura just laughed, used to her husband’s inability to function right after waking.

‘In the pot.’ She got to business feeding Nathaniel while Clint made his coffee. He groaned in relief at the first sip. ‘You should go see him,’ Laura said abruptly. He frowned in confusion over his cup at her. ‘James,’ she clarified. ‘He’s been a little…nervous, about how you might react when you woke up. He’s just outside, chopping firewood.’

‘Ok,’ Clint agreed, chugging back his coffee and ignoring the burn. As he headed for the door, a part of him thought there were a lot of questions he really should be asking. But he trusted Laura implicitly, so chose to step outside and meet the stranger who saved him.

He stepped out onto the front porch to the rhythmic thud of an axe hitting wood. His query had his back to him, and he enjoyed watching the muscles shifting under his singlet as he brought the axe down. The motion also gave Clint a glimpse of familiar swirling blue flecks on his tricep. His hair was pulled back in a loose bun, allowing Clint to clearly see the rust-red mark he’d left in the curve of his neck. The whole picture made him feel unexpectedly protective, especially since this man had saved _him_. It was only when he’d stopped a few feet from him and the man turned that he realised why.

‘You know, I got a couple friends who’ve put a hell of a lot of effort into finding you.’ Probably not the best line he could have gone with, but he had no doubt he’d already made a fool of himself while drugged up the night before.

‘Wasn’t exactly lookin’ to be found just yet,’ James admitted with a shrug. His stance was curled in and defensive, his expression cautiously closed. Laura was right, he really did seem nervous.

‘I can respect that,’ Clint said with a nod, taking a step forward and shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not thrilled about keeping things from my friends, but I won’t ever force you to do something you don’t wanna do.’ This seemed to be enough to make James loosen up a little.

‘Thank you.’ It was painfully sincere. Clint waved it off.

‘Least I can do after you dragged my ass outta that cell.’

‘It was a team effort. You were a pretty good shot for someone who couldn’t even stand.’ The edges of James’ mouth had curved into a tiny, shy smile. Clint laughed.

‘Well, sharpshooter _is_ my superpower.’ He frowned a little. ‘How did you even know I was there?’

‘I…overheard a phone call. Between Laura and Nat?’ he answered a little sheepishly. ‘Heard her mention where you were taken. Figured out where you were being held by process of elimination.’ He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. ‘I’d already taken out any other cell that might have had you.’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot about your one man rampage against Hydra. Don’t know how, Sam hasn’t talked about anything else in months.’

‘Sam?’

‘Sam Wilson? The guy with the wings? He’s been tracking you.’ James nodded.

‘Yeah. He was hard to shake. Almost caught up in Chicago.’ Clint snorted.

‘I’ll pass on your compliments. So, I gotta ask; how in the hell did you wind up _here?_ ’

‘I was injured, it was raining. Snuck into the barn for shelter, then Laura showed up. Surprised the hell outta me when she stitched me up and gave me a bed. That was a couple weeks ago.’

‘We really need to have a talk with her about letting strange men into the house,’ Clint grumbled under his breath.

‘Bloody and well-armed men specifically.’

‘Not that I’m complaining,’ Clint added, giving James an obviously appreciative once-over. ‘In this particular case, I think it worked out just fine.’ James’ eyebrows rose, looking surprised but interested.

‘No place I’d rather be,’ he agreed with a smouldering smirk. ‘Now lets get you inside and change those dressings,’ he added, subtly breaking the tension and reminding Clint he was injured. Clint groaned.

‘You’re gonna be a worse mother hen than Laura, aren’t you?’ But he dutifully followed him back to the house.

‘Well I do have a lot of experience looking after scrappy punks with more bruises than brains.’

Clint opened his mouth to fire back more banter but was distracted by Laura scurrying up to them, her phone pressed to her ear.

‘Look Nat, I hear what your saying, but before you continue there’s someone you really need to talk to.’ With that, she shoved the phone at Clint.

‘Uh, hey Nat?’ Clint managed to say, looking a bit befuddled. He almost instantly moved the phone away from his ear as angry shrieks in russian could be heard emanating from the tiny speaker. Laura, meanwhile, had rounded on James.

‘You blew it up?’ He frowned in confusion.

‘Of course I blew it up,’ he replied, as though that was the most logical course of action he could have taken. ‘I had to destroy their supplies and files.’

‘You also drew a lot of attention. Nat found the crater and thought Clint was _dead_. She was on her way here to tell me in person when I called her.’

‘Oh.’ He looked so dejected, she immediately deflated.

‘I’m not mad at you. It’s not like you could have left her a note or anything. It’s just, the way she sounded; I’ve never heard Natasha so wrecked before. I guess I got a little angry that she had to go through that. That she thought she was about to put _me_ through that.’ He pulled her into a hug.

‘Hey, I get it. And I’m sorry.’

‘Not your fault,’ she sighed. She pulled back a little. ‘So, you two have a good talk?’

‘Yeah. Turns out we even have a couple of mutual friends.’

‘After what you did, that honestly doesn’t surprise me.’ Meanwhile, Clint had finally managed to get a word in edgeways.

‘Look, Nat, I’m real sorry you thought I was dead, but they drugged me all to hell. I honestly couldn’t tell you what happened last night.’ He paused. ‘How should I know? Maybe explosives seemed like a good idea at the time. You know how I get when I’m out of it.’

By the time Clint had managed to talk Natasha down, James had gotten out the first aid kit and Laura had set about making more coffee. He shot Laura a glare even as he sat down opposite James.

‘Thanks ever so, Light of my Life, for throwing my poor injured ass under the bus.’ Laura just rolled her eyes and James gestured for him to remove his shirt. He groaned in pain as he did, only now noticing his ribs were taped and there were bruises down his side. James got to work replacing the dressings scattering his torso.

‘You didn’t tell her about me,’ he said, not taking his eyes of his work.

‘Thought you weren’t ready to be found?’ James frowned and looked to Laura.

‘Natasha…is the beautiful Russian assassin?’ She nodded, looking a little confused by the question. ‘A redhead?’ She nodded again. He looked back at Clint. ‘She’s with Stevie, isn’t she?’

‘Last time I checked, yeah. Don’t think he was too happy thinking I was dead either.’ Suddenly, Laura gasped.

‘Holy shit,’ she whispered. ‘I am so stupid. You’re James _Barnes_.’

‘Once upon a time,’ he admitted softly. Clint looked shocked back and forth between them.

‘Wait, so you had no idea who he was?’ She shook her head.

‘Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out who James Barnes is anymore.’ James was deliberately not looking at either of them.

‘Hey,’ Clint said softly, gently reaching out to lift James chin. It was painful how haunted those beautiful blue eyes looked. His fingers brushed the mark on James’ neck. ‘Hey,’ he said again. ‘We’re here for you. We’ll help you figure it out.’

‘Always,’ Laura added, having stepped around the kitchen bench to stand before them. ‘Whatever you need.’ She rested a hand on each man’s shoulder.

At her touch, all three members of the triangle felt a resonance deep within, their very essences harmonising perfectly. A sensation of warmth, love and completion enveloped them, and they found themselves wrapped in a tight, three-person embrace until the feeling receded to a pleasant sense of rightness at the back of their minds.

‘So,’ Clint said, after they had sat there for a while. ‘That’s what a complete bond feels like.’

‘Feels good,’ Laura said softly. Somehow she’d wound up sitting on their laps. ‘I don’t want to ever get up.’

‘Someone’s gonna have to,’ James sighed. ‘It’s almost 3:30.’ That was typically when the bus dropped the kids off from school.

‘So?’ Clint grumbled. ‘We’ll be telling them at some point anyway.’

‘And you don’t think that’ll be even slightly awkward if we’re wrapped around each other?’ James asked dryly.

‘I will agree to let go solely on the condition of couch snuggles after dinner.’

‘You promise to take it easy ‘til you’ve healed properly?’ Laura asked sternly. Clint looked to James for support, only to find him giving Clint the same stern look.

‘Ugh, fine. But I will be demanding snuggles whenever I’m bored.’ Laura and James looked at each other with mock-gravity and shared a nod.

‘Deal,’ James agreed with faux-seriousness.

‘I shoulda known you two would gang up on me,’ Clint muttered with a shake of his head.

‘Only because we care,’ Laura said brightly as she reluctantly slid off them. ‘Also, you get to watch Nathaniel this afternoon.’ She kissed them both on the cheek and then headed for the nursery. They all felt the loss of contact keenly, but the warm sense of rightness thankfully remained.

‘Alright, soldier, guess you should finish patching me up.’

 

Cooper and Lila were ecstatic to see their father when they got home, though a little disappointed Aunty Nat wasn’t with him. Clint spent the afternoon and evening on the couch, playing with Nathaniel and watching James interact with his family. It warmed his heart to see the way his family had carved a place just for James, despite having known nothing about him. Their unthinking kindness had likely been exactly what the broken soldier had needed to begin healing. This snarky, playful man was nothing like the cold assassin Natasha had described. He was a lot more like the man Steve had talked about, the best friend he’d grown up with. James said he wasn’t sure who James Barnes was, but from Clint’s point of view, Bucky was the biggest part of him. No matter what twisted tortures Hydra had put him through, the snarky kid from Brooklyn had somehow survived.

True to his word, Clint demanded snuggles the second the kids had been tasked with doing the dishes. His soulmates had settled down on either side of him on the couch, Nathaniel sound asleep on his lap. Cooper and Lila returned to the living room to find their parents reclining against their houseguest, James’ arm draped Clint’s shoulders to rest his hand on Laura’s neck where she was curled against Clint’s chest. The sight was unusual, but neither cared to comment, instead settling down on bean bags to watch TV. Cooper kept looking over at them, frowning. During an ad break, he found some courage.

‘Hey, uh, James?’ James craned his head to look at him.

‘Yeah, kid?’ he asked pleasantly.

‘Is that a soulmark?’ He gestured to his neck. Lila also stopped watching TV to follow the conversation, obviously curious.

‘Yep,’ He answered simply. ‘Got that from your old man.’ Clint threw up a jazz hand to show off his matching soulmark.

‘Do you have one for Mom too?’ Cooper asked, apparently fascinated. Wordlessly, James raised his arm to show him the underside.

‘So does that mean you guys are like Rachel and Nate’s parents?’ Lila piped up.

‘Yes, honey,’ Laura said with a smile. ‘Just like the Summers.’

‘So James is staying forever?’ Cooper asked.

‘As long as he’s willing to put up with our craziness,’ Clint replied.

‘Awesome! Less chores!’

‘Nice to know I’m appreciated,’ James faux-grumbled with a poorly suppressed chuckle.

The conversation devolved from there, and involved several cushions being thrown at Clint. Neither James, Clint nor Laura stopped grinning the entire evening. That night James learnt that Laura tended to sleep sprawled on her stomach, preferably, apparently, across his chest. And Clint liked to sleep curled up and burrowed as close to another person as humanly possible. And James learnt that he liked being in the middle, where he would never be cold. Even when Clint hogged the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is all I have written so far, and is likely to be the end of it. I do have the bones of a smut seen and some ideas for a Steve scene, but no promises if those will ever get written.  
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the thud of a knife hitting the wall that signalled the end of the quiet peace they’d been living in.

One does not simply walk into the Barton household. Those few to have entered without announcing themselves very quickly learned the severity of that error. It had started as a friendly test. Whenever Natasha came around, she would attempt to reach the very centre of any occupied room undetected. Laura would attempt to pin her in place as early as possible. Natasha had only ever remained completely unimpeded once, and Laura still claimed that one didn’t count (Clint had totally distracted her on purpose). Even the children were in on it, although their mission was to hide the instant they were aware of an intrusion until their parents called for them to come out. Clint had added a lot of little hidden boltholes throughout the house over the years.

 

Thus it was the thud of a knife hitting the wall that signalled the end of the quiet peace they’d been living in.

 

It was a lazy Sunday morning. Clint was still asleep upstairs, having been on teething-baby-duty the night before. James was at the kitchen table feeding a reluctant Nathaniel while keeping the TV in sight. The kids were on the couch watching cartoons in which James had become surprisingly invested. From her position doing dishes at the sink, Laura caught the barest hint of movement reflected in the kitchen window.

 

On instinct, she spun, sending the nearest blade into the wood of the doorframe, barely an inch from the intruders head. Unfortunately, James had sensed the intrusion as well.

 

As the knife left her palm he exploded into action. By the time the blade had hit wood, James had slammed Natasha to the floor, his own blade at her throat. She twisted her legs up under him to get a thigh around his neck, simultaneously trying to get him off her and incapacitate him. Laura rushed over to break them apart just as Steve Rogers stepped through her front door.

 

‘James, STOP! She’s a friend!’ Laura cried, falling to her knees beside the pair, trying in vain to physically separate them.

 

‘Natasha!’ Steve exclaimed, rushing forward to help.

 

‘Stay back!’ the redhead barked. Steve obediently froze a step away, although clearly unhappy about it. James ignored him, looking instead from Natasha to Laura.

 

‘You trust her?’ he asked. Laura nodded. ‘But you attacked her on sight.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Laura gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘It’s a stupid game that I now realise we really should have mentioned earlier.’

 

‘You know who he is?’ Natasha interrupted sharply. Neither of them had moved their grips, although both were slightly less punishing.

 

‘Yes.’ It was at that moment that Clint decided to descend the stairs.

 

‘Hey Steve, what’re y-WHAT THE HELL?!’ He leapt across the room, dragging James off Natasha by his shoulders. James let him, although he didn’t let go of the knife and kept his body between his soulmates and the new arrivals. Thanks to the angle of his takedown, James’ face and left arm had been hidden from Steve’s perspective. It was only when he glanced up from checking Natasha was OK that recognition dawned.

 

‘Bucky?’ he murmured, entirely shocked to find him here of all places. James’ shoulders hunched in and he refused to look away from Clint and Laura’s reassuring faces. A plaintive cry came from the kitchen where Nathaniel was unhappy being ignored.

 

‘I should finish feeding him,’ James murmured, stepping away to remove himself from the loaded atmosphere.

 

‘ _Don’t you dare touch my god-son!’_ Natasha hissed in russian from Steve’s side. James looked her in the eye, still managing to completely avoid acknowledging Steve.

 

‘ _I will never harm him.’_ He responded in kind. Natasha didn’t object when he walked back into the kitchen. Steve made a step to follow him, but Clint stopped him with a hand on his chest.

 

‘C’mon Cap, we gotta talk,’ he said evenly, subtly pushing Steve back out onto the porch, leaving Laura to deal with Natasha.

 

‘Yeah,’ Steve agreed, his jaw clenching. ‘We do.’

 

 

Outside, Steve immediately rounded on Clint.

 

‘What the hell, Clint? How long has he been here?’

 

‘What the hell me? What the hell you, man?! Just showing up here outta goddamn nowhere?’ Steve crossed his arms defensively.

 

‘I was gonna call, but Nat said not to bother. That she just drops in all the time.’ Clint let out a hissing breath, dragging his hand through his hair.

 

‘Yeah, she does. Damn it, I’m not even mad at you guys, I just…’ He let out another deep sigh, ‘…just thought we had more time.’ He looked at his friend with tired eyes. ‘This is not how we planned on doing this.’

 

‘Doing what? Telling me you knew where Bucky was this whole time?’

 

‘Not the whole time,’ Clint insisted. ‘It’s only been a couple months. And I didn’t even know until he saved me from HYDRA.’

 

‘That was him?’ Steve asked with a frown. ‘You told Nat you got out on your own.’

 

‘I had to tell her something.’

 

‘It couldn’t have been the truth?’

 

‘No, it couldn’t,’ Clint shot back, his tone firm. ‘Look, it sucked keeping this from you, and if it had been my decision, you’d have known the minute I did. But it was never my decision, it was his.’ Steve deflated a little at the truth of his statement.

 

‘He didn’t want to see me.’ The dejection in the statement was clear, and Clint stepped across the space between them to rest a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder.

 

‘He said he wasn’t ready. We always planned to bring you round here eventually. He just wanted to make sure he had his head on straight first.’ Steve nodded.

 

‘Yeah, I get it. He needs time.’ He straightened up. ‘We’ll go.’

 

‘No,’ Clint argued, shaking his head. ‘You’re already here, might as well stay.’

 

‘I thought he wasn’t ready?’

 

‘True, but what’s done is done. I’ll talk to him; see if he’ll agree to try just talking for a bit. I think it could help him a lot. If he says no, then you can go.’ Steve nodded, glad that he may yet be able to have Bucky back. ‘Also, he’s been going by James.’

 

‘Why?’ Steve couldn’t help asking.

 

‘I guess he couldn’t remember how to be Bucky, so it was easier to be James instead. Less expectations.’ That last comment was heavily loaded with meaning.

 

‘I know he’s changed,’ Steve sighed. ‘He went through so much, I know that he’ll never be exactly the same as I remember. But that’s the thing about people, we change. I’m definitely not the man I was during the war. I don’t expect him to be either.’

 

‘Well, thank god for that,’ Clint said with a proud smile. ‘Cause that was pretty much the biggest thing he’s been worried about.’

 

‘Buck always worried too much,’ Steve chuckled. He matched Clint’s smile with one of his own. ‘And thank you, Clint. It can’t have been an easy decision, letting him into your home.’ Clint snorted.

 

‘What decision? My wife’s the one who decided to take in the stray assassin.’

 

‘Then I’ll have to thank her too. But you still let him stay, even knowing who he was.’ Clint just shrugged and stepped towards the door.

 

‘Well, I wasn’t about to toss my soulmate out into the street, now was I?’ he threw back over his shoulder, leaving a momentarily shocked super-soldier on his front porch.

 

Inside, Laura had apparently taken Natasha off to another room. The kids had emerged from their bolthole and were once again in front of the TV. James had joined them, Nathanial on his lap gnawing away at his favourite teething toy (James’ left pinkie). He looked up when Clint entered, clearly trying not to be tense. Lila and Cooper did tense, their positions either side of James endearingly protective.

 

‘Hey,’ Clint said, wincing a little at his own awkwardness. He knelt down in front of the couch, placing a comforting hand on James’ knee. ‘You ok?’

 

‘Yeah,’ James responded slowly. ‘Yeah, I’m ok. Just…got a little rattled, I guess. Old instincts, brought up some nasty memories.’ He took a deep breath and gave Clint’s hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘Nothin’ I can’t handle when I know I got you and our girl lookin’ out for me.’ Clint grinned and gave him a kiss, glad that James knew how much he was loved. ‘So, is the punk comin’ in or does he plan on camping out on the porch?’ Clint huffed a short chuckle.

 

‘If it’s all right by you, he would like to come in.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, its part one of that Steve scene I mentioned.


End file.
